


Nurse

by SeafoamSoul



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 01:33:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17033856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeafoamSoul/pseuds/SeafoamSoul
Summary: Braun is injured and it’s time for you to take care of him.





	Nurse

A groan and the rustling of blankets woke me up, my head popping up from where it awkwardly rested on my arms. I was curled up in a chair next to Braun’s hospital bed, the one that had been wheeled in here hours earlier right after his surgery had been completed. The doctors said it had gone well and now all we had to do was wait for him to wake up. So wait I did.

Now, though, my waiting was over. Braun’s eyes were lidded and heavy, barely open. He was awake, though, that much was obvious.

“Hey,” he greeted, voice deeper and much rougher than normal. His right arm was encased in a sling, uselessly cradled against his chest as he used his left arm to help sit himself up.

I was out of my chair in an instant, trying to help him get comfortable. “You feeling okay?” I asked after helping him get situated, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Tired,” he grumbled, left hand grabbing my own as I settled back in my chair.

“I know, baby. Go back to sleep,” I urged him, watching as his heavily lidded eyes closed easily, sleep soon overtaking him.

This time, I stayed awake. I was able to answer questions from the doctor when he made his rounds through the room, was able to keep an eye on him, able to keep our hands held together while soft snores rumbled from Braun’s chest. I was able to be here for him, which is all that mattered to me.

=======================

I first found out that Braun would need this elbow surgery while he was on an overseas tour with the WWE. He called me in the middle of the night, his voice eerily calm, even, as he explained the issue to me. He assured me it was a minor injury, that surgery was just to prevent it from getting any worse.

That didn’t do anything to ease the aching in my chest, however.

He told me he was on his way home immediately, that he’d be taken to the hospital as soon as he landed. “Can you be there?” he asked, voice breaking just a bit near the end.

I was nodding furiously, forgetting for a moment that he couldn’t see me. “Of course I’ll be there. You don’t even have to ask.”

He hung up with the promise of calling me when he landed so I could meet him at the hospital. I knew he was upset about what was happening, knew he wasn’t looking forward to missing out on work for a while. But he still tried to sound strong, to sound confident, to sound like he’d be okay. I knew it was for my benefit, so I wouldn’t freak out too badly. And yet, here I was, my heart pounding in my chest as I flopped back against the pillows on the bed. Braun needed surgery. He was hurt and he was halfway across the world where I couldn’t help him. It killed me.

=======================

“Fuck,” Braun muttered, sharp intake of breath following the word as he woke up. His eyes were less lidded this time, far less heavy, and he seemed more alert. Which, in this case, meant he was just more aware of the soreness in his arm.

“Hey,” I cooed, scooting closer to him in my chair. “What do you need?”

“To go home,” came his reply, voice short.

I opened my mouth to answer him when the doctor strolled in, a folder under his arms.

“Lucky for you, Mr. Strowman, you can leave as soon as you sign these papers. We’ll give you a schedule for your physical therapy and a prescription for some pain medication if you’d like, and then you’ll be on your way,” the doctor explained, placing the papers in front of Braun.

Braun silently reached for the pen, scribbling his signature on the release papers before slumping back, waiting for the next big of instruction. The doctor told Braun he’d get the papers filed away, motioning for me to follow him to the hallway.

“He’s likely to be extremely moody for the next few days,” the doctor warned me, eyebrows raised.

“Oh trust me, I’ve dealt with grumpy Braun before. We’ll be fine,” I waved away his concern with a smile.

The doctor laughed, shaking his head at the determined look on my face. He told me to help get Braun dressed and he’d be back to officially release us.

I turned back to the room, seeing Braun standing up next to the bed, pants halfway up his legs.

“Let me help,” I offered, rushing over to him.

“I got it,” he snapped, waving me off. “I can do it myself.”

I sighed, defeated, as I watched him struggle to get his pants on one-handed, followed by his shirt. The doctor was right, I noted. Braun was grumpy. And I knew it wouldn’t end any time soon.

=======================

Five weeks had gone by, one of the two months Braun would be out. He was much less grumpy now, more into the swing of things concerning his physical therapy. His focus and drive on getting back into the ring sooner than WWE doctors anticipated fueled him.

I was merely there to help him keep his appointments in order, especially after the first rocky week and a half. I spent those days making sure he had everything he needed to stay comfortable, to ensure that he would be happy. Braun didn’t seem to appreciate it too much, his sour mood setting the tone for the entire house.

It was all changing though, as he increased his physical therapy sessions. He was going as often as possible, wanting to get back in the ring as soon as he could. He was back to his normal self, smiling all the time, his mood infectious.

Braun was fine, he assured me. That couldn’t stop my constant worry. I was terrified he would do something in his therapy sessions to make it worse, that he would come home and I’d do something to make his injury worse. I was a nervous wreck, keeping my distance as much as I could.

During the day, I managed to steer clear of his immediate area. I was terrified of bumping into him wrong, doing something to ruin his progress. At night, I stayed to my side of the bed, working hard to ignore the desperate part of me that begged to curl up into Braun’s chest. But I did it. I didn’t want anything I did to cause more problems for him.

And Braun let it slide that first month. But halfway through the first week of the second month, he snapped.

“Baby come here.” He gestured for me to crawl into his lap on the foot of the bed, clad only in his boxers. I had just slid on a t shirt, one of his, and turned to face him.

“What?” I asked, fingercombing my hair.

“Come here,” he gestured to his lap again.

I made my way closer to him, stopping just short in front of him. There was no way I was getting in his lap, no way I was increasing the risk of something worse happening to his elbow. “What do you need?”

“You,” he answered simply, arms coming to rest on my waist to pull me forward into him.

I couldn’t stop my momentum, falling clumsily into his lap. “Braun be careful!” I reprimanded, gently pushing his right arm off of me.

“I’m fine,” he assured me, his right arm coming back up to hold onto my waist. “I promise.”

“You’re not healed up yet,” I countered, slowly pushing at his arm.

“You’re not gonna hurt me,” Braun laughed, pulling me even closer into him. “I do a lot harder workouts than just holding you everyday. And I miss you.”

“Braun you see me everyday,” I dismissed him with a roll of my eyes.

“But I miss you,” he repeated himself, grip tightening on my waist. I opened my mouth to say something in response, a whine falling from my lips instead when Braun ground his hips into mine. “Sounds like you miss me, too.”

My head rolled back as he peppered kisses along my jawline to my neck. It had been a while, and I was lost in the feelings he was evoking from me. When he rolled his hips against mine again, however, I was pulled from my reverie, panicking about his arm once again.

“Braun, your arm-” I began, trailing off as he sucked at the skin of my neck, surely leaving a mark in his wake.

“My arm’s fine, baby,” he murmured against my skin, the rumble of his voice shaking my own chest pressed against his. His fingers trailed underneath the hem of my shirt, stroking my sides while he busied his mouth with my neck again.

“I don’t want you to get hurt again,” I managed to gasp out, arching into his touch despite my words.

“You won’t hurt me.” Braun’s voice was deep, matter-of-fact as he pulled away from my neck. “Please.”

There was something about hearing him say please, his breath hitching in the middle of the word, that drove me crazy. He sounded so desperate, like he really needed me. And I missed him, too, that was for sure. It had been so long, me spending all that time worried he’d end up more injured than he was already. But now, with him sitting right under me, his hard cock pressing insistently against my thigh….I couldn’t say no.

I finally nodded my head, just once, and Braun’s hands started moving. He tore the shirt over my head, hands coming up to cup my breasts as I spoke up. “But I have to ride you. I don’t want you stressing your arm out.”

“Even better,” Braun growled in response, moving to crush our lips together finally. The kiss held all his frustration at being injured, readiness to get back in the ring. It was desperate almost, his tongue tangling with mine quickly.

My hands fell to his chest, brushing across his nipples lightly, the cool metal of his piercings a sharp contrast to the heat of his skin. He groaned into the kiss, pulling away to watch my fingers dance across his chest. When I lightly pinched at a nipple, knowing how he would react, he didn’t disappoint. His whole body jerked, low whine deep in his chest.

I didn’t have much time to celebrate getting that noise from him before he was freeing himself from his underwear, sliding my own to the side before entering me in one swift movement.

“Fuck,” I whined, head dropping to his shoulder. Braun’s breath hitched, his hands tightening on my hips as we both adjusted to his sudden movement. Finally, he got tired of me not moving, and he started moving my hips for me. I swatted at his right arm, getting him to loosen his grip, before moving on my own accord.

My hands rested on his shoulders as I moved, head thrown back. Braun’s hands slid around to my ass, kneading the skin there. One of his hands left my skin, connecting again with a sharp smack. I gasped, my hips moving even faster on his.

“Please,” I begged, movements getting sloppier and sloppier the faster I got. Braun’s own hips were slapping up against mine, one hand trailing up my body to my waist again while the other slid between us, his thumb pressing harshly against my clit.

“I need you to come for me,” Braun muttered into my neck, grinding me down against him.

The pressure on my clit, along with the feeling of Braun pressed so deep into me did me in. I came with a cry of his name, hips rolling against his in jerky movements. Both of his hands moved to hold onto my hips while he came right after me, mouth pressed against my shoulder to muffle his moans.

“Your arm,” I breathed, pushing my hair back from my face to slide off of his lap.

“Relax,” Braun laughed, not letting me go. He pulled me closer, falling back onto the bed.

“Braun - “ I began, pushing lightly at his arm.

“Oh fuck,” he winced, pulling his arm away.

I sat up quickly, panic on my face. “Oh my god, I told you this would happen! What’s wrong, what do we need to do? Do we need to go the hospital? What do you need?” Rapid-fire questions came from my mouth as I tried to stand up, looking around for clothes to put on so I could take him where he needed to go.

“Babe, I was kidding,” Braun admitted with another laugh, sitting up.

I paused, my shirt halfway over my head. Pulling it over my head slowly, I stared at him, my eyes narrowed. “Fuck you.”

“You just did,” he replied easily.

“Well that’s the last time. For at least the rest of the time you’re injured. Maybe forever,” I said, turning on my heel to leave him in the bedroom.

“Wait! Come back, it was a joke!” he called after me, laughter lacing his voice.


End file.
